"A friend of Bonnie's? But I've never seen you before," the middle‑aged woman said, her tone full of suspicion.
"Heh…" Glen gave a harmless, friendly smile. "My name's Glen, ma'am. You can ask Bonnie—she should know me."
"Wait here," the woman said politely, then closed the door.
Glen waited patiently. After a moment, the door opened again—this time by the ever‑hungry little Bonnie.
"Mr. Glen?"
Compared to the last time he'd seen her, Bonnie had clearly lost weight, and that lively, cheerful sparkle was gone, like she'd been ill.
"I heard about what happened to you and Laila, and I've been worried, so I came to check in…" Glen paused. "…Mind if I come in?"
"Uh… sure, come in," Bonnie said, as if snapping awake, stepping aside.
Inside the somewhat nicer‑than‑average home, Glen gave only a quick glance around to avoid being rude, then set the cloth bag he'd been holding on the table. That's when he noticed the food.
A common staple for civilian families… The thought crossed his mind.
"You two talk. I'll go do the laundry," Bonnie's mother said, giving the young people space.
She knew it wasn't quite proper for her daughter to be alone with a boy close to her age, but she hoped this so‑called friend might lift Bonnie's spirits.
"Alright, ma'am," Glen replied with a smile.
Once the mother left, Bonnie suddenly felt awkward. After all, she'd only just met Glen, and he was a boy. Being alone in a room with him was bound to be uncomfortable.
"You must've been really scared that day," Glen said first, easing the flush creeping onto Bonnie's face.
She stayed silent, unsure how to respond.
But Glen kept going, "I know roughly what happened. With something like that happening, I'm truly sorry. I bear some responsibility—I know that."
"Please don't say that, Mr. Glen. No one can predict what'll happen next," Bonnie said quickly, waving her hands at his tone of self‑blame.
Glen gave a vague smile. It was his responsibility; others might not know, but he did.
"You don't look so good—fact is, you haven't been eating, right?" Glen pointed at her face.
Bonnie's face reddened as she looked down.
"Your mom's really worried about you, you know? I get that facing something like that for the first time leaves scars—it's normal. But don't just withdraw into yourself. That won't make things better."
Glen's voice was gentle, like an elder coaxing a child.
"I know, but…" Bonnie pressed her lips together, fingers twisting.
"Don't be afraid, Bonnie. There's actually a guardian watching over you."
Glen's calm delivery of that baffling line made Bonnie freeze.
She looked up in confusion. "A guardian?"
"Yes, a guardian." Glen met her gaze, his tone quiet but certain. "Have you forgotten what saved you and Laila that day?"
Following Glen's lead, Bonnie recalled the scene she didn't want to remember.
A few rough thugs had dragged her off, she'd struggled desperately, but it was no use. As fear and despair swallowed her, the thugs suddenly cried out and let go. She couldn't remember exactly what they'd shouted, but it must've been something that terrified them.
If Glen was right, those thugs had been scared off by this so‑called guardian!
"Mr. Glen, you mean…"
"Shh…" Just as Bonnie was about to exclaim, Glen hushed her with a finger and gave her a mysterious wink.
"Oh my goodness!" Bonnie covered her mouth in surprise, a strange thrill surging inside her.
Seeing the girl's earlier gloom vanish, Glen was quite pleased.
Kids and teens this age have an insatiable curiosity for the unknown and mysterious, which makes them bolder than adults. If Glen had said this to someone in their thirties, they'd probably be half‑terrified.
Besides, in a world where magic existed as a known phenomenon, people would accept Glen's made‑up premise without much fuss.
"So… so, Mr. Glen, what is the guardian?" Bonnie clutched her little fists to her chest, asking like a spy exchanging secrets.
Glen deliberately looked left and right, then leaned in close and whispered, "Actually… the guardian is a super‑giant dog…"
Somewhere nearby, a certain super‑giant dog, napping, twitched its nose… then let out a loud sneeze…
"A super‑giant dog?" Bonnie's eyes widened.
"Yep, a dog as big as a horse. A punishing dog that deals with evildoers. That day it was protecting you along the road. When it saw bad people bullying you, it showed up, and those thugs were so scared they ran for their lives."
"That… that's just…" Bonnie breathed fast, at a loss for words.
"That's really cool, right?" Glen supplied a fresh adjective for her.
"Cool?"
"Yeah, cool." Glen nodded.
"Yes! Cool! That's so cool!" Bonnie's face flushed with excitement.
Possibly because she'd gotten too loud, her mother suddenly opened the door. "Bonnie, what's wrong—?"
Mid‑sentence, she saw her daughter's radiant smile.
"Bonnie! You finally smiled! Oh, I thought I'd never see that again."
As a mother, she was clearly devoted—the relief in her tears said it all.
"I'm okay now, Mom." Bonnie stepped up and wiped her mother's tears away.
"I know, I know…" Her mother gave her a gentle push. "You two keep talking. I still have laundry to finish."
With that, she closed the door again, leaving Bonnie and Glen alone.
"Mom cares about me so much, that's why she…"
"…ended up moved to tears. I envy you—having a mom who loves you like that is a blessing," Glen said sincerely.
Bonnie didn't know how to respond. She couldn't help wondering: Did Mr. Glen say that because he doesn't have a mom who cares? Yeah… otherwise he wouldn't be living all alone in such a remote place. Must be he has no family left.
Noticing the sudden softness in her gaze, Glen seemed to read her thoughts. "Don't overthink it. Just speaking from the heart."
Bonnie nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, then turned the topic back to the guardian.
"Can I see it? The guardian, I mean. I want to thank it in person."
"Sure. It stays near my place. Whenever you're close, it'll watch over you from the shadows. I can have it show itself."
"Awesome." Bonnie excitedly gave a little hop in place.
Gurgle, gurgle~
A strange noise suddenly filled the room. Bonnie froze mid‑excitement, her face turning even redder—and so did her ears.